Breathless in Bollywood

by Marsh, Nicola

  “I’m not just asking this as a favor,” he said, his tone annoyingly calm. “There’d be something in it for you, too. Nik Shah, the maharaja of Munnipar, wants me to convert part of his palace into a hotel and I thought you’d like to do the interior design.”

  Damn the man and his treacherous blackmailing technique. A job of that magnitude would cement her business for decades. And considering she’d just lost Cheta’s lucrative account, she didn’t have much of a choice.

  But she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

  “We make a good team, Desee. Surely you can see that?”

  She turned, schooling her face into impassivity, not wanting to show him how much he’d hurt her.

  Because no matter how much he couched this in business terms, Jarryd continued to use her and had no compunction doing so.

  She’d thought spending one, magical night together might’ve changed their relationship, a positive shift into something deeper and more meaningful.

  She’d been deluding herself.

  Jarryd didn’t see her as anything other than a means to a profitable end and the sooner she realized it, the better.

  “Do you always use blackmail to get what you want?”

  He startled, wariness creeping into his eyes. “I prefer to see it as a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  She snorted. “Call it what you want. Sounds like blackmail to me.”

  “You don’t have to agree.” He shrugged, as if her answer meant little, but she saw the tension making his neck muscles stand rigid. “I just thought it’s a sound decision for both our businesses.”

  “When you articulate it so logically, how can I refuse?”

  Her sarcasm sounded harsh and she meant it to be. She may be nothing like her mother yet she couldn’t help but see the parallels: using a Baron man to get ahead. The fact he was using her too? Shouldn’t hurt so damn much but it did.

  “You seem to have considered everything except one salient fact,” she said, eyeballing him. “When this fake engagement ends, I’m the one who’s going to cop all the crap.”

  She patted her chest. “The media’s going to have a field day, comparing me to my mom yet again. It’ll be a free-for-all.”

  “You think I haven’t thought of that? That I’d do that to you?” He shook his head, disgust twisting his mouth. “I’ll be the one to end this engagement. I’ll take the flack.”

  He made it sound so easy but if there was one thing Desiree had learned being involved in Jarryd’s schemes, nothing was easy.

  But she’d faced him down enough for one day. She wanted to get this job done, move onto the palace, then get as far away as humanly possible from Jarryd Baron and his blackmailing ways.

  “Fine. Announce the engagement. Let the press go nuts. I don’t give a crap anymore.” She tried to pass him but he wouldn’t budge. “Get out of my way.”

  “I’m doing this for us,” he said, so softly she barely heard.

  “For our businesses, don’t you mean?”

  This time, she shoved past him and didn’t stop, even when he called out her name.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When Desiree left work that night, the press was waiting for her.

  Guess that answered any doubts she may have harbored that Jarryd would see sense and not announce their ‘engagement’.

  They were everywhere. Waiting at the hotel’s service entrance. Surrounding her car. Outside her flat when she eventually made it home.

  They thrust their microphones in her face, peppering her with intrusive questions and false congratulations. She gritted her teeth and smiled through it all, the epitome of polite graciousness when all she felt like doing was screaming.

  They jostled her as she made her way to her flat and she damned Jarryd to hell for not anticipating this and offering her some kind of protection.

  Then again, he was probably going through something similar. Good. She hoped he had it ten times worse.

  By the time she’d braved the manhandling crowd and made it inside, Desiree was ready to flay Jarryd alive.

  Then she turned on the TV and the impulse intensified tenfold.

  She featured on every channel. Current affairs snippets. Entertainment shows. The works. She was breaking news.

  The inevitable comparisons between her and her mom were drawn, with most people having the same opinion: she’d use Jarryd for as long as it took, then dump him just like Sushma had dumped Voigt.

  Desiree should’ve been immune. She’d heard similar disparaging drivel in the past. But the longer she flicked between channels and heard the same old, the harder it was to ignore her voice of reason, demanding what the hell was she doing.

  The deal breaker came when a news channel posted the picture of her and Jarryd kissing, closely followed by the one of her gazing at him in adoration at the dating convention launch.

  She looked like a woman in love. A woman so gaga over a guy she’d do anything, including pose as his fake fiancée.

  That’s the moment it hit her.

  She couldn’t do this.

  Couldn’t pretend — for however long it took — to love Jarryd Baron, when in reality, she was on the verge of doing just that.

  If she went through with this, her business would boom, but her heart would shatter.

  She’d watched her mom do whatever it took to hold onto a man. No way would Desiree do the same. For that’s what would end up happening: the more time she spent with Jarryd faking it, the harder and deeper she’d fall, until she wouldn’t be able to distinguish between what was real or fake.

  He’d be happy to go along with it. They’d already proved how combustible they were in the bedroom. But that’s all it would be. Phenomenal sex without the emotional commitment.

  She’d be emulating her mom, using her body in the hope of getting more.

  No way, no how.

  Decision made, she fired off a terse email to Jarryd, saying she couldn’t go through with the engagement and that she’d be away from the hotel tomorrow.

  Because if she really wanted to put her mother’s behavior — put the past — behind her and ensure she didn’t stray down a similar path, she had to visit someone.

  And it couldn’t wait.

  * * *

  When Sushma had left Voigt at the altar, Desiree hadn’t been able to face him.

  Over the years, she’d deliberately blocked that day from her mind because the memories made her incredibly sad. Memories of the stunning Goan beach, of Voigt waiting at the end of a red carpet not far from the ocean’s edge, of her wearing a pale pink strapless designer dress of exquisite chiffon that made her look like a princess, of A-list guests from all around the world.

  She remembered waiting with Voigt near the makeshift altar, shooting him reassuring smiles while Sushma took her own sweet time arriving for the ceremony.

  Remembered going in search of her mother when she didn’t appear, finding the note, and telling Jarryd to let his father know there wasn’t going to be a wedding.

  She’d wanted to go to Voigt, to offer what scant comfort she could, but she’d been too afraid he’d take one look at her and direct his anger toward Sushma at her.

  Cowardly, maybe, but as time wore on, she’d often thought of Voigt and how she’d done the wrong thing in not approaching him. In not offering some kind of apology, even if she wasn’t the one who’d broken his heart and sent him into hiding.

  As she stood outside his door, mustering the courage to knock, she knew she should’ve done this a long time ago.

  Before she could knock, the door opened and Voigt beamed at her like she was his long lost daughter.

  “Desiree, what a lovely surprise.” He opened his arms to her and before she could second-guess the impulse, she flung herself into them and burst into tears.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” He patted her back until her sobs subsided and gently eased away, staring at her with concern.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” she said, swiping
at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “Still kind and gentle.”

  “Still a sucker for a beautiful woman,” he added, with a laugh. “But no more tears, okay?”

  She nodded as he gestured inside. “Now come in and tell me what brings you to my part of the world.”

  As Desiree followed Voigt inside, feeling foolish for her emotional outburst, she couldn’t help but be surprised by his humble abode.

  Small rooms, wooden furniture, tiled floors, without any sign of his famous past. Voigt Baron had directed some of Hollywood’s biggest hits and had done the same when he’d moved to Mumbai to take Bollywood by storm.

  But not a single poster adorned the walls and no awards lined the dressers.

  “Masala chai?” He moved around the kitchen with total ease. “Prita has gone to the market but I make a mean cup of tea.”

  “She’s still with you?”

  He nodded, a flash of sorrow darkening eyes so similar to his son’s. “She made the transition here to Saravan easy. I’d be lost without her.”

  Desiree didn’t know what to say. It was too soon to broach the subject of why she’d really come here so she settled for exchanging pleasantries.

  “Nice place.”

  “It’s simple but it suits my needs.” He busied himself adding cloves, cinnamon sticks and cardamom with black tea leaves to boil on the stove. “No muss, no fuss.”

  He pinned her with an assessing stare. “But I’m guessing that’s not why you came all the way out here, to check out my living arrangements.”

  Great. So much for easing into this conversation.

  “I’ve been working for Jarryd at your Baron Hotel in Mumbai. Did he tell you that?”

  Momentary anger flashed in Voigt’s eyes before he lowered them to stir the chai. “He did. For what it’s worth, I don’t approve of the methods he’s using to garner publicity.”

  Surprised Jarryd had mentioned their dating deal to his father, she said, “He told you?”

  Voigt nodded, his brows knitted into a frown. “I worry about that boy. It’s all business for him.” Voigt’s eyes narrowed. “He needs a good woman to help him see the error of his ways.”

  “That woman isn’t me,” Desiree said, her dry response garnering a chuckle.

  “Despite your engagement?” Voigt’s chuckles turned to full-blown laughter. “When that news broke yesterday, I hoped it was true, that Jarryd had come to his senses and fallen for you for real.”

  His laughter petered out and he shook his head. “But I can see from your woebegone expression that you haven’t come here today for a visit with your future father-in-law.”

  “You’re right,” she said, as Voigt turned off the stove and poured chai into two cups. “I came here to apologize.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “For what?”

  “For not seeing you after Mom ditched you at the altar. For not offering whatever comfort I could.” She scowled. “For not doing more to keep her away from you in the first place.”

  Voigt’s mouth softened. “You warned me away from her when we first met. I was the sentimental old fool who didn’t listen.”

  “But what she did…how she humiliated you…” Desiree shook her head. “I’m truly sorry for that.”

  “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, my girl,” he said, brusque. “Come sit, have your tea and let’s talk about other things. Like the fool my son is.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me on that,” she said, joining in his chuckles. “But Jarryd’s not totally to blame for the media farce. I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to pose as his girlfriend so I could re-design the old wing of your hotel.”

  “There’s a world of difference between posing as a girlfriend and announcing an engagement,” he said, staring at her as if he doubted her sanity.

  That made two of them. “Apparently bookings at the hotel have skyrocketed and enquiries are at an all-time high since the publicity from our ‘relationship’, so Jarryd thought taking it one step further would cement the hotel’s reputation as the go-to place in the city.”

  Voigt snorted. “And what do you get out of this illustrious arrangement?”

  “The Maharaja of Munnipar approached Jarryd to convert some of his palace into a hotel and your oh-so-resourceful son offered me the design job.”

  “He’s good at blackmail, I’ll give him that,” Voigt said, sounding less than impressed. “Is your business that important to you that you’d go along with his outlandish schemes?”

  Desiree nodded, feeling like a fool. “Interior design is my passion and I funded my course and did a few design jobs while working as a PA for an IT magnate. I’ve wanted to open my own business for ages and agreeing to Jarryd’s schemes gave me an opportunity to cement my fledgling business in a competitive field.”

  Concern clouded Voigt’s eyes. “Do you have feelings for him?”

  Desiree should lie. The last thing she should do is unburden herself to Jarryd’s father, but she found herself reluctantly nodding. “Guess that makes me doubly stupid.”

  “Only if you do nothing about it.” Voigt leaned forward and patted her shoulder. “I know my son. He’s so driven for success that he won’t know he’s missed out on the best thing to ever happen to him until he’s lost you.” He rolled his eyes. “Then he’ll be too proud to admit it.”

  Hating the flare of hope that Voigt’s advice elicited, Desiree shook her head. “We’re two people who’ve been thrust together in unusual circumstances, each doing our best for our businesses. It’s normal we’d be attracted, which will peter out pretty fast once he moves on to the next big project and I do the same.”

  “But won’t you be collaborating on the palace project?”

  “If he still wants me, considering our engagement lasted all of a day and I’ve emailed him calling it off.”

  “He’d be a fool not to hire you, foolish arrangement or not.” Voigt leaned back and folded his arms. “As it so happens, I’m friends with Nik Shah, the maharaja, and he’s coming for dinner tonight. Why don’t you stay and meet him? Put out a few feelers without my son being involved. Prita can make up the spare room and you can head back to Mumbai in the morning.”

  Desiree would’ve usually uttered some trite refusal about not imposing. But a night away from Mumbai—and Jarryd, considering he’d be fuming after her email—sounded perfect.

  “Thanks, that sounds great.” Desiree leaned over and impulsively hugged Voigt. “I’m so glad my mother didn’t get her hooks into you. You’re far too nice for her.”

  Voigt chuckled. “And you’re far too nice for my son, which is exactly why I think you should give him a chance. A good woman doesn’t come along very often.”

  “Who says I’m good?” She winked and joined in his laughter. “Seriously, Voigt, nothing will come of my relationship with Jarryd, but I still want us to be friends.”

  He nodded, seriousness replacing amusement. “My door is always open to you. Don’t wait another six years to visit, you hear?”

  Desiree smiled her agreement, rather than telling a blatant lie. Because she knew that once her relationship with Jarryd ended, he wouldn’t want her anywhere near him or his family.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After the crappy day he’d had, starting with Desiree’s email ending their engagement, and concluding with one of the dating convention staff falling down the hotel’s front steps, the last person Jarryd felt like talking to was his dad.

  But Voigt had called twice in the space of an hour, worryingly unprecedented, and Jarryd picked up the phone to ring him back, trying to quell a rising dread.

  When his father picked up and answered “Hi, Son,” Jarryd exhaled in relief.

  “What’s up, Dad?”

  Voigt chuckled. “Rough day?”

  “You could say that.”

  He could also say that he felt like a prized schmuck for thinking Desiree would be happy with yet another of his crazy blackmail schemes but he had a feeling his da
d wouldn’t approve and the last thing he needed now was to be berated.

  “I hear your engagement got called off,” Voigt said, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “That must suck.”

  Jarryd stilled. He hadn’t informed the press yet, knowing they’d have a field day with the news his engagement to Desiree had lasted less than twenty-four hours.

  Which meant his father had found out only one other way.

  “Desiree told you?”

  “Yes, she’s visiting. We had a lovely day and now she’s being swept off her feet by Nik Shah.”

  Jarryd’s blood froze, closely followed by a tsunami of fury that swept over him and made breathing difficult.

  “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me.” Voigt had the audacity to laugh. “Look, Son, she told me all about your business arrangement and so-called engagement. But a special woman like Desiree shouldn’t be used that way. Hopefully she’ll be treated better by Nik.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Jarryd clenched the phone so tight he wouldn’t have been surprised if it snapped. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  “I’m not the one playing games, Son, you are.” Voigt’s tone held a hint of steel. “Nik was coming over for dinner tonight so I invited Desiree to stay and meet him.” His tone turned silky. “Not my fault if they hit it off and he’s asked her to come stay at the palace and check out the proposed hotel site.”

  “Over my dead body,” Jarryd muttered, blinking rapidly to dispel the red spots dancing before his eyes. “Is she staying the night?”

  “Of course. By the way those two are hitting off, they’ll be talking for hours yet so it’ll be too late for her to head back to Mumbai.”

  “Tell Prita she’ll have a third person at breakfast, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t you mean a fourth? Because Nik might stay over—”

  “Don’t push it, old man,” Jarryd said, knowing he’d find this conversation amusing once he’d calmed the hell down and spoke to Desiree. “Thanks for the heads up, Dad, I appreciate it.”